32. Rook
Chapter thirty-two
Rook
I stand at the center of Nero’s suite, my eyes scanning the faces of my packmates. The luxury of the room—its high ceilings and plush carpets—is lost on us now. We’re too caught up in this moment, our instincts tuned to the same frequency of dread.
Nero sits down on the couch with a pained grunt, his black hair a stark contrast against his artificially pale skin, his brown eyes unreadable. He’s been quiet since we gathered, but I know the wheels are turning in his head. The guy’s mind is a labyrinth; I’ve always found it impossible to predict his next move.
Around me, Gunnar, Aisling, Oberon, Luka, and the rest—all of them stiff as statues, waiting for me to break the silence. Aisling’s fingers twist a strand of her silver-blonde hair, a tell that she’s anxious. Gunnar stands close behind her, a silent pillar of support. In their proximity, there’s a tension that speaks of a bond solidified through trials by fire. Oberon shifts, his posture rigid with the kind of tension that precedes a storm. Luka mirrors him, his body language screaming readiness for combat. They don’t have to say it aloud—I can feel the weight of their concerns.
“Look, I won’t sugarcoat it,” I continue, folding my arms across my chest. “We’ve been in the dark for a while, but that’s about to change.”
I pace a short line in front of the expansive window, the cityscape of Pacific City sprawling below us like a diorama of desolation under the iron-gray morning sky. Every step I take is measured, deliberate—the calm before the storm.
“Since we hit the Mojave lab, I’ve been digging through the data,” I say, my voice steady despite the churn of my stomach. “Sifting through code, cross-referencing, hacking into encrypted channels.”
Gunnar’s gaze follows me, sharp and calculating. Aisling’s eyes are wide, her lips parted slightly as if to urge me to spit it out. Oberon stands still, his whole body taut with anticipation. Luka’s jaw clenches, and I can almost hear the cogs in Nero’s head whirring at double speed.
I stop pacing and turn to face them all, letting the silence stretch for just a moment longer. They deserve the dramatics; they need to be prepared for the impact.
“I’ve finally learned who Vance was working with,” I announce, the words hanging between us like a guillotine’s blade. I let them take a breath, watch their faces shift from anticipation to dread, and then I drop the name like a bombshell. “It’s Lianna Rossi.”
The air in the room thickens, charged with an electric current of disbelief and betrayal. I don’t need to look around to know their shock—I can feel it vibrating in the space, a tangible force that momentarily sucks the oxygen out of the suite.
Nero’s reaction is subtle, but I catch the slight narrowing of his eyes, the faintest tightening of his mouth. He knows more than he lets on—always has. The others, though, their reactions are raw and exposed. Gunnar’s hand tightens imperceptibly on Aisling’s shoulder, a gesture of protection and support. Aisling herself seems to recoil, as if the name itself is a physical blow. Oberon’s fists clench at his sides, knuckles whitening—a display of controlled fury.
And Luka… well, Luka looks like he’s ready to leap into action, right here, right now.
“Lianna?” Aisling’s voice slices through the heavy air, sharp as a knife. Her grey eyes are wide, reflecting the turmoil that must be roiling within her. “How could Vance work with her? She’s…she’s psychotic.” It’s a question laced with pain and incredulity, her pale skin blanching at the very thought.
Oberon steps forward. His narrowed gaze fixes on me, demanding, unyielding. “What’s her angle, Rook?” he grunts out, the bass of his voice rumbling through the suite like distant thunder.
I hold their gazes, feeling the weight of their collective expectation. They look to me for answers I’m not sure I have, but I’ve never backed down from a challenge—not against the Eclipse, not against Caius, and certainly not now.
“Her angle,” I start, pausing to choose my words carefully, “remains to be seen.”
My eyes flick to Nero, who remains an unreadable statue among the tempest of emotions swirling around him. He knows something—something vital—but he’s guarding it close, like he does with all his secrets.
“Look,” I press on, steadying my voice against the tide of anxious energy that threatens to break over us. “Lianna’s been working the shadows for a reason. It’s not just about power or control…there’s got to be something else at play.”
The room falls silent, every pair of eyes fixed on me.
But then Nero clears his throat.
“She’s doing whatever is necessary to keep him safe,” he says. “That’s her only priority.”
“Keep who safe?” Gunnar’s brow furrows, his stance rigid with suppressed agitation. “Caius?”
“No,” Nero shakes his head. “Her son.”
I stare at Nero, ust like everyone else. That…well, I didn’t see it coming, even though I thought I’d worked out all the pieces of this. If she really has a son, she’s kept him well-hidden.
“Son?” Oberon echoes, the word sounding alien and dangerous coming from his lips.
Luka’s face hardens, etched with disbelief. “Since when does Caius have a kid?”
Nero lets out a humorless laugh. “Since eighteen years ago. And that must be why she wanted me killed…because I knew. Because I helped her get him out of Pacific City what feels like a lifetime ago.”
Nero’s revelation hangs in the air, a tangible shockwave that ripples through the suite. A collective gasp echoes off the walls, and I feel it too—the sharp intake of breath, the sudden tightness in my chest. Lianna Rossi, the merciless matriarch who’s become synonymous with treachery, has a child? It’s like trying to picture a viper nurturing its young—a concept so foreign it borders on the absurd.
“Lianna has a son?” Aisling’s voice carries the tremor of disbelief that we’re all feeling. Her grey eyes are wide, reflecting the tumultuous thoughts that must be racing through her mind. “How? And why didn’t anyone know?”
“Because she’s Lianna Rossi,” Nero says bitterly, as if that alone explains everything—and maybe it does. “She’s been pulling strings from the shadows all along. She doesn’t play games unless she holds all the cards.”
The pack members exchange glances, their expressions a mix of bewilderment and caution. The knowledge that Lianna Rossi would go to such lengths for her offspring—it’s not just unexpected, it’s a complete recalibration of what we thought we knew about our enemy.
“Protecting her child,” Luka mutters, almost to himself. “Even predators have a soft spot, it seems.”
“Soft spot?” Aisling shakes her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. “More like a blind spot. If her child is her priority, that could be something we use to our advantage.”
“Or it could be our undoing,” Gunnar adds darkly. “We can’t underestimate what a mother will do for her child. Especially not Lianna Rossi.”
“Lianna always has more than one reason for anything she does. She’s playing chess—always thinking several moves ahead.”
“Then we need to think like her,” Gunnar says, rising from his seat. His stature commands attention, the authority of an alpha who’s seen more battles than most would in ten lifetimes. “We stay one step ahead. We figure out her strategy and anticipate her next move. That’s how we win.”
“Winning isn’t enough,” Aisling interjects. “We have to survive. And not just us—the entire pack. We have to consider every possible outcome.”
“Survival is the bare minimum,” Luka adds, his voice firm. “We’re not just fighting for ourselves—we’re fighting for the future of Pacific City.”
I lean against the wall, arms crossed over my chest, an unreadable expression on my face. “Our best shot at survival is to turn Lianna Rossi into an asset rather than a liability. She’s willing to betray Caius and work with the Angels for her son, that much we know.”
“Betrayal is in their blood,” Nero interjects with a crooked smile, but there’s no humor in his eyes. “Rossi men have a penchant for turning on each other. It’s like a twisted family tradition.”
“Then let’s exploit that tradition,” Aisling says sharply. Her grey eyes are like storm clouds, brewing with a mix of strategy and something else—anger, maybe, or determination. “We use the discord in the Rossi ranks to our advantage. If Lianna is desperate enough to turn her back on Caius for her son, then she might just be desperate enough to ally with us.”
“Desperate allies are dangerous,” I warn, but as I look around, I see the sentiment taking root. It’s a risky play, but it’s got potential—a lot of potential. The pack members exchange glances, their expressions a mixture of trepidation and intrigue.
“Risky or not, we need every advantage we can get,” Gunnar points out. “And if playing into Lianna’s hands means securing safety for her son, then she just might bite.”
“Exactly,” Aisling nods. “Lianna Rossi could become an unexpected ally. Not one we trust, but one we can use. We’re not making friends here—we’re forging a weapon.”
“Alright, let’s think this through,” Gunnar says. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, gaze sharp and calculating. “We reach out with an offer—protection for her son. But we do it smart, make her believe she’s not just choosing the lesser of two evils, but actually winning something.”
“Sure, we can protect the kid,” Luka chimes in, his voice low and steady despite the tension simmering in the air. “But how do we ensure she doesn’t double-cross us? Lianna’s cunning; she’ll have plans within plans.”
“Exactly,” Oberon adds, his voice a deep rumble that commands attention. “We need contingencies. Lianna’s allegiance will be as fragile as glass. One wrong move and she’ll shatter any deal we make.”
“Then we don’t make moves that break glass,” I say, trying to inject some levity into the conversation. It falls flat. “We need to be clear about our terms, make sure she knows we’re serious.”
“Deadly serious,” Aisling murmurs, and there’s a steely look in her eyes that tells me she’s far from the vulnerable omega Lianna once tormented. She’s a force unto herself, and right now, she’s focused entirely on dismantling the Eclipse.
“Let’s lay it out then,” Gunnar says. “What does Lianna value most? Her son’s life, without question. We offer safety, sanctuary even. But we also need to show her that aligning with us is her best shot at keeping him safe long-term. We’re not just another pack. We’re the pack that can end Caius’s reign.”
“Sanctuary with teeth,” Oberon nods approvingly. “She’ll need to see strength in us, or she won’t respect the offer.”
“Right.” I glance around at the faces of my packmates, each one set in grim determination. This isn’t the path we thought we’d be taking, but it’s the one that’s opened up before us. “So, we present ourselves as the alpha choice for her. But we do it smart. We keep her on a tight leash, and at the first sign of betrayal…”
“We cut her loose,” Aisling finishes, her voice hard as flint. “And if it comes to that, we’ll be ready.”
“Exactly,” I nod, locking eyes with each member of the pack. “We can’t afford to slip up.”
Gunnar leans against the wall, his arms folded across his chest as he studies the Oasis skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The morning light casts sharp angles across his face, highlighting the determination etched into his features.
“Sometimes, the enemy of my enemy really is my friend,” he muses, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through the tension-filled room.
Aisling steps closer to him, her presence a soothing balm in the midst of our strategizing storm. She places a hand on his arm, her touch gentle yet grounding.
“Love can make people do crazy things,” she says quietly to Gunnar, and there’s a flicker of something vulnerable in her gaze—a shared understanding of the lengths one would go to protect their own.
“True,” Gunnar replies, his voice softening as he looks down at her. “That’s a card we can play, but we can’t forget what she’s done. Lianna is still an enemy, no matter how much empathy we might feel for her cause.”
“Empathy doesn’t mean we forget,” Aisling asserts, her eyes meeting mine with unyielding resolve. “It means we understand—and that understanding gives us an edge. We’ll use it to bring them all down.”
“Then it’s settled,” Nero states, stepping forward to join the rest of us. “We reach out to my sister-in-law with an offer she can’t refuse. We do this not just for the safety of her son, but for the future of Pacific City.”
We all nod in silent agreement, knowing the risks and the stakes. This isn’t just another move in our game of survival— it’s a gambit that could shift the balance of power and change everything.
And with that thought, a new chapter in our struggle begins. We’re going back to Pacific City…and we’re about to shake up the playing field.